


True Reverence

by Ludovica



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Breathplay, Cunnilingus, F/M, Femdom, Pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 03:27:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5727979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ludovica/pseuds/Ludovica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her armor, splendor; her body, a masterpiece. There is so much about Phasma for Hux to worship - and so much to receive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	True Reverence

Her body smelled of metal and leather, blood and sweat. He was sitting in front of her, on his bed, his fingers grazing over the freshly stained thigh plating of her combat suit, following the faint reflection of his finger in the beautiful chromium up to the edge of the piece of armor. He hooked his fingers under it, feeling the warmth of her protective under-suit, while his eyes roamed farther up, to her solemn, serious face, her eyes, blue like a winter evening, looking down at him, watching his movements.

He was reverent in his touches, as he always was, and when he leaned forward to kiss the metal above her hip, he closed his eyes as if swearing allegiance to an icon of the Emperor. His tongue darted out of his mouth, tasting the bitter blood that had found its way in droplets onto the suit, a tribute to the memory of the greatest empire, to a past they were fighting to restore, iron feeding chromium just as the bodies of the weak and ignorant fed the power of the strong and wise.

Phasma’s large hand, heavy with the chromium links shielding her fingers, landed on Hux’ head, pushed his face forward against the cool metal, pushed his nose into the gap between her thigh plate and her crotch plate. Hux inhaled, the synthetic smell of the protective cloth mixing with faint traces of sweat and harsh layers of smoke in his nostrils. His left hand clutched the warming chromium plate over the back of her thigh, while his other hand worked to find the switches that would open the suit. Phasma’s metal-clad fingers raked his short hair, scratched the back of his neck, found the sensitive places at his nape with a sureness that made him shiver.

He found the switch, and the metal joints clicked as they unlocked. He pulled back a little, looking up at her again as she took off her cape and put it down next to her helmet on the table standing next to his bed. He bent forward again, breathing a kiss against her crotch plate, before his fingers slowly started to work her out of the shining plates that covered her body like the impenetrable scales of a dragon of ancient lore. She removed her hand from his head to take care of her arm and chest plating. The symphony of clicking joints and sliding metal filled Hux’ sparsely furnished bedroom.

She placed the parts of her armor onto the floor with so much care as if they had been fragile as delicate crystal glass. The thought of its value – its uniqueness – is nearly as intoxicating to Hux as the sight of her muscled body, now only hidden beneath a black protective under-suit. If anybody in this world deserved to be unique – to create her own self with utter authority – it was her, his formidable Captain, his superb companion. She had created her body and her armor alike, and they had become so inseparable that seeing her like this, a black silhouette crowned by a radiant head instead of her shining helmet, sent a beautiful, perverse feeling into his center.

He started to unbutton his own shirt – his coat hung forgotten over a hook by the door – not daring to touch her again without his permission. But even so, he could feel the heat radiating from her, could smell the synthetic odour that hid the fragrance of her fan-warm body. She was not yet undressing herself – he had not yet earned it – but even so Hux could feel the pressure of his hard cock urging his fingers to work his buttons faster.

When he pushed the shirt over his shoulders, he wondered for a second if he should compromise his advantageous position – nearly touching Phasma’s thigh with his nose – to fold the shirt, but then he decided that he would just put it into the laundry afterwards.

He swallowed when he threw the shirt down onto the floor, his eyes focused on the porcelain blue of Phasma’s eyes. He lifted his undershirt over his head, let it join the shirt, but before his fingers could find the buckle of his belt, a small motion of Phasma’s head made him stop, and he put his hand back onto the bed obediently.

She lifted his chin with two fingers, turned his head this way, then that, scrutinizing him like a piece of weaponry. Then she pulled his head back, pulled it back so far that he had to brace himself with his arms, putting strain on his abdominal muscles so he wouldn’t fall back onto the bed. She looked over his upper body while he breathed in the synthetic smell of her glove, then she released him and let the tip of her thumb slide to his lips.

Obediently, he took the very tip of the fabric between his teeth and pulled the glove off expertly. She took him out of his mouth, and he repeated the process with her other hand. The gloves landed next to his clothes.

Her hands were warm, near burning, when she let her fingers slide over his cheek again. He opened his mouths and sucked in two of them. His eyes closed as the tip of his tongue ran along the space between her fingers, caressing her knuckles and her nails, enjoying the pressure she put on his tongue. She moved her fingers teasingly, shallowly thrusting them into his mouth, before she finally pulled them out. He opened his eyes to see her open the fasteners of her protective suit, and his hands instantly flew to his belt, opening it before he opened his trousers and pulled them down, together with his underwear, too eager to take even the time to stand up properly – he just lifted himself off the bed for a second and shuffled out of his clothes, his eyes fixed on the white skin of Phasma’s neck, on the curve of her naked shoulders, the first hints of her chest…

No sooner had he thrown his trousers to the side when she pushed him down onto the bed again, so hard that he stumbled back and hit the soft bedding with his head. She came onto the bed after him, shifting the mattress under her weight, and moved up until she was sitting with her knees next to his shoulders. He watched with familiar excitement as she took off the upper part of her protective suit and then her grey undershirt. Her body was as sublime as her armor, planes of solid muscles streaked with ravines of pearlescent scars. From the column of her neck to the ridges of her hip bones, she was a monument of skill and power, unique in the way only a leader of thousands could be, resilient as the flagship of an armada and beautiful as a TIE Fighter in the midst of a maximum performance climb.

She grinned down at him, and he couldn’t help the answering smile appearing on his lips as she ran her hand through his hair again. Then her hand found the back of his head, and his hands lifted to her hips. He pulled down her leggings and her pants just a good five inches, then pushed her hips forward as he lifted his head. They had done this often that he did not get undignifiedly tangled in her underwear, and within moments his head was caught between the soft, sweat-damp cloth of her underpants and the hot, wet treasury of her cunt. Phasma’s hand at the back of his head gave him support as she settled into a slightly more comfortable position, pulling his head forward and against her in the process.

With a sigh that became inaudible against her curls, Hux opened his mouth and pushed just the tip of his tongue through the slit under his lips, tasting every bit of her from her entrance to her clit. He could feel her shiver, and her muscular thighs pushed against his ears as he pushed his face farther against her crotch, burying his nose in her smooth, golden hair and his tongue in the warm embrace of her labia. He closed his eyes, finally, and ducked his head, feeling the pull of the fabric at his neck and the guidance of the hand at the back of his head. Phasma tilted her hips so he could push his lips against the top of her slit, his tongue now pushing its way up through her smaller lips, stopping just millimeters before her clitoris, before he moved his whole head a little upwards and licked the little nub with the width of his tongue.

Phasma pushed against him, and he began to alternate between licking and sucking in a regular rhythm, first slow, then growing faster, until his head was bopping up and down in unison with the motion of her hips. His hands had wandered backwards by now, grasping her firm buttocks to adjust the position of her hips, and he worked his tongue into her thrusts until he felt as if it was close to a cramp when she finally grasped his head so firmly between her thighs and hand that he was sure he was about to suffocate in the midst of the shivers of her orgasm.

Hux stayed in the same position while she caught her breath. He licked her hot, spent cunt clean, luxuriating in the taste, until she gently moved her hips far enough forward for him to pull his head out of his delightful prison.

He sat up on the bed and wiped some of her juices off his chin, before he turned around, licking his thumb clean. Phasma was still facing away from him, stretching her body like she always did after coming, and he enjoyed the play of her muscles in her large back before he finally grabbed a tissue from a little dispenser in the wall next to his bed and cleaned his face off. Then he turned around and, also on his knees now, put his arms around Phasma’s torso and laid a kiss onto her shoulder.

Phasma’s low chuckle shook her body, and she lowered her arms to grasp Hux’ rear. She pushed his body against her back for a second, then she sighed and turned to kiss his cheek. “Such a good boy…” she murmured, then she gave his buttock a little slap and stepped off the bed.

He let himself fall onto the blanket before he rolled onto his side, watching as Phasma shed the rest of her clothing. He pushed his socks off, just for good measure, while she went to the cupboard where he kept their favorite little toy.

The smile on her lips when she turned around again was so much that of a predator that Hux felt a shiver run down his spine. He narrowed his eyes in anticipation, then moved his legs farther towards his body to accommodate Phasma, who was kneeling down on the bed again.

Lying on his side, he watched as she prepared herself. The straps fixing the toy at Phasma’s crotch were metal, but made of such intricate and well-designed links that they caressed Phasma’s thighs like cool leather. There was a plate against her crotch that tapered down between her legs, where synthetic pads would translate the pleasure she was giving Hux to touches that might make her climb up again as well. But the main part of this toy, the part they both enjoyed most, was the black, synthetic rod that protruded from the crotch plate. It was phallic, but more stylized than lifelike, with ridges that would have been very alarming on any real cock.

Just looking at it made heat pool in the pit of Hux’ stomach. It was as if a shadow of all the breathtaking orgasms Phasma had given him over the years with this and similar toys was rushing through his midsection, making his already hard cock ache with desire and anticipation. He felt empty, all of a sudden, a void hungry to be filled.

Phasma pulled a condom onto the black dildo and slicked it with lubricant from a small, turquoise bottle.

“On your knees, boy,” she said in the same tone of voice she used with her troopers during squad training, and, with a shudder of pleasure that leaked out of his cock as a drop of precum, he hefted himself up and got on his knees, into the position she liked most, his cheek pushed against the soft satin of his bedding, his arms parallel to his body, his shoulders pressing against the bed to take some of the strain off his neck. He arched his back and presented his ass to her. When she inched forward between his legs, he opened them more to accommodate her, shifting his position to not lose balance.

Phasma poured some more of the lubricant into his open crevice, before she took the dildo in one hand and rubbed the lube into his skin with the tip. He closed his eyes and spread his legs wider, arched his back farther. Two strong hands grasped his hips, and he let go of himself. In her hands, he knew he wouldn’t fall.

“There’s a good boy, Sheevol,” she whispered, and then the rod pushed into him, opened him from the inside, forced him to accommodate every inch of its hard, black silicone. 

At the end, when all of it was embedded deep inside him, when the first unpleasant, nauseating stretching had given way to the warm hum of fullness, when he felt the hot metal of Phasma’s breast plate against his balls, when he could feel her short nails dig into his hip, the pain predicting the beauty of the red marks he would carry away, he felt like he was going to die from the perfection of this moment.

Then she started moving, and his whole body molded himself into her touches, around her cock. He pushed his face into the soft satin, his breath labored and wet-hot against his own face, his hands grasping at nothing, his shoulders straining, his ass so beautifully full. Shivers of pleasure ran from the tailbone up over his spine, from his sides to his nipples, from his hole to his balls. His cock was dripping, he could feel it, tiny drops getting shaken off the hot flesh by her rhythmic, slow thrusts.

Then her rhythm hitched, and she began thrusting harder into him. His mouth fell open, and he tasted fabric as the shocks started to fill that elusive space at the base of his spine, and he shifted his weight – sure that her hands would accommodate to this change of position – to grasp his hot, dripping cock in his hand. Her hands started moving his hips now, and he could feel her hips slapping against his ass with every new thrust. Gasping sounds came out of his wide open mouth, and he rubbed his cock frantically, so close to the edge that he felt as if he was going to lose control over his body at any moment.

And then one of those strong hands left his hip, and found the back of his head, and pushed his face deep into the satin bedding.

His hand still wrapped around his cock, he started struggling, started pushing up against her, trying to break free. He couldn’t breathe, and with Phasma’s heavy body pushing down on him, he couldn’t move properly, caught between the hard, hot cock in his ass, his own frantically jerking hand, and the unforgiving, soft, black suffocation digging into his nose and mouth and lungs. The hand on the back of his head just became more unforgiving, and he rolled his eyes back into his head, near painfully, when black fog crept into his brain.

He came with a force that forced a sob from his lips. He lost himself in his body. He fell apart like porcelain on a duracrete floor.

And then there were her hands, big and strong and sure, picking up his pieces and putting him back together, shard by shard. She pulled him up against her body, stroked his chest while he took large gulps of cool air to assuage his burning lungs, then she kissed his back – mirroring his earlier gesture – before she gently laid him down on his side, pulling her toy out of him in the process. One of her hands ran over his shoulder, down to his elbow, before her warmth vanished.

Hux only noticed now that his eyes were still closed. He sighed lowly, and put his hand – the one that he hadn’t used to jerk himself off – under his head like a pillow. His body felt heavy, still thrumming, and he didn’t really want to see anything but the insides of his eyelids right now. As long as his eyes stayed close, he was in the best place he could be in.

Phasma came back with a pack of wet wipes which she used on his ass, cock and hand – one wipe for each, like he had asked her to the first time they had fucked. Then she took out another one, and gently wiped the rest of her juices and his own saliva from Hux’ face. He had to grin a little at that – it was cute, nearly motherly, and it made him feel strangely fuzzy when she did that. Then she moved away again, only to return with all of her body to the bed the next time, not just with her hands

They lay together for a while, one of her arms around his hip, her hard body pushing up against his back. He breathed in the fragrance of exertion and sex, just let the lazy warmth seep into his bones, replace the omnipresent tension in his muscles with sweet nothingness.

Soon enough, Phasma would stand up, and they would both wash off each others smells and liquids, and they would return to their posts, the cogs of their collaboration greased by yet another hour of this little team building exercise of theirs. But for now, there was nothing but calm in Hux’ mind, a calm he had never experienced before he had met Phasma. Safety, security, harmony.

Perfection.


End file.
